


Comeback

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: Intelligence may do a lot of favors for them, but Hank Voight will always be an albatross around Casey's neck. He trusts him more than he used to. He knows he takes care of his people. But trusting him more than he used to and logically knowing he has a history of backing up his unit when they're on the ropes is hell of a lot different than actually trusting him. [brettsey] [One Shot]
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 26
Kudos: 206





	Comeback

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So this fic started with a prompt I picked for myself ("I thought you were dead" but then I reblogged a soft angst list on tumblr and I didn't make it clear not to send them to me (woops, sorry guys) and I got sent two. One of which was: "don't give me space. that's the last thing i want with you." So I thought it might be fun to pair that with the one I picked for myself, and I was totally right. (well tbh I am almost scrapped this fic halfway through but katertots talked me out of it and SHE WAS TOTALLY RIGHT. SO THANK YOU KATERTOTS.) Hopefully you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> angellwings

* * *

" _Come back to me, baby, I'll come back to you._

_Light up the world like only you can do._

_If you're lost on the way then I'll get lost too._

_Come back to me, baby, I'll come back to you."_

_-"Comeback" by Jonas Brothers_

* * *

He should have known the day was going to be shit the minute Voight walked into the firehouse. Intelligence may do a lot of favors for them, but Hank Voight will always be an albatross around Casey's neck. He trusts him more than he used to. He knows he takes care of his people. But trusting him more than he used to and logically knowing he has a history of backing up his unit when they're on the ropes is hell of a lot different than actually trusting him. So, when the man walks into Casey's home away from home his muscles instantly coil and his jaw locks. He thinks he's expecting the worst.

Turns out he's wrong.

He never expected Boden to come out of his office and ask for his officers _and Brett_ after barely ten minutes of heated discussion with the Intelligence Sergeant. He wasn't expecting the worst before because involving _Brett_ makes this worse than anything he thought might have been coming.

For her part, Brett looks just as confused and concerned as he does.

"What's up, Chief?" Casey asks as Severide closes the door behind them.

"Intelligence needs a favor."

Severide scoffs and shakes his head. "The last time we did Intelligence a favor the CFD lost a man and my Squad ended up down a solid guy for a week. If you're taking votes, I say we're done doing Intelligence favors for a little while."

Casey wholeheartedly agrees and so does Herrmann based on the affirmative resentful grunt he releases into the room.

Sylvie clears her throat and bashfully raises her hand. Matt fights back a grin. Has Brett always been this cute? And, if so, why is he just now noticing it?

"Why am I here?" She asks as she glances around at the officers, Voight, and Upton.

"You're the favor," Voight announces bluntly.

"Me?" Sylvie asks in surprise.

"You went to a bachelorette party last night at The Underground?" Hailey asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

Sylvie tugs on the long sleeves of her shirt and purposefully avoids all their eyes. "I-yes, I did. For a friend from my spin class. I bailed early since I had to work today but I was there for a bit. Why?"

"You ran into someone on your way out," Upton states with a gentle smile that looks too sympathetic for Matt's liking. He gets the feeling she's trying to imply something unpleasant happened.

Sylvie lets out a shaky sigh, wraps her arms around herself, and nods. "Yeah, I handled it."

A smirk briefly passes over Voight's face before he replies. "We saw. There was a security camera covering the alley."

Brett's eyes self consciously flick around the room. Her body language indicates she'd rather not talk about whatever happened in front of them. "What does that have to do with why you're here?"

"The man you ran into, we suspect him of the abduction of two young women. Both first responders, both blonde and blue eyed like-"

"Me," Sylvie states, completing Voight's sentence. "Got it."

Herrmann, Severide, and himself all react the same way at the exact same time.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not a chance in hell."

"You can't be serious."

Boden stays quiet, but Matt saw him arguing with Voight just a few minutes ago so he knows he feels much the same.

"We just need you to ride with Hailey for the rest of your shift in the ambo," Voight clarifies locking eyes with Sylvie. "We need to work fast and the fastest way we know is to lure this son of a bitch out of hiding so we can grab him. Now, he already knows your face. You're his type. If Hailey rides with you then both of you are his type. It'll double our chances and keep you protected."

"Yes," Sylvie says with a furrowed brow. "He knows my face but that's all he knows. How would he know I'm a paramedic-"

"Security footage from the club shows him tailing you the entire time you were in club last night, listening to your conversations, watching you with your friends-"

"I-he was following me?" Sylvie asks in alarm. "I thought he was just a creep who tried to corner me outside the club but...are you telling me that he targeted me?"

Hailey steps into her space and places her hands on Sylvie's shoulders. "Sylvie, you're fine. You're here. Right now, last night only matters because it means he knows you. You managed to take care of him last night so today should be just as easy. Hell, easier. The ambo has way better tools than your pepper spray and your keys. You startled him. And that move with your keys? _Bad ass._ All we're doing today is your normal job. I'm just riding along in case he shows up again, that's all. We're not going to let anything happen to you. Got it?"

There's a moment of heavy silence between Brett and Upton. He can see Sylvie's doubt but there's something else in her eyes that he's seen plenty of times before. Her wheels are turning. She's seriously considering Voight's plan.

No. _Fuck no_. There is no goddamn way that she'll actually agree to this is there? He _has_ to say _something_.

"Damn right you're not going to let anything happen to her," Casey protests as he locks eyes with first Upton and then Voight. "Because she's not doing it."

Sylvie sighs, the sound is full of exhaustion and stress, and then turns around to be face to face with him. The determination in her eyes causes his stomach to plummet to his feet. He knows what she's going to say before she says it. _Damn it_.

"Casey, I am doing this. I have to. He tried to _abduct_ me last night. I can't let him wander around out there and not do anything to help. He's going to try again and the next woman may not be as lucky as I was. He has to be stopped and if I can help make that happen then what other choice is there?"

A lot of responses come to mind but none of them seem wise. He wants to ask her about last night and what the hell happened because it seems like something she should have mentioned to them before now. He wants to tell her she can't trust Voight or that he likes to push things until he almost loses. But that would mean telling her that she's not someone he can risk losing and _that_ would require owning up to feelings he's not sure she returns.

"What happens if it goes sideways?" Casey asks Voight worriedly while never once pulling his eyes away from Brett's.

"It won't," Voight declares.

Casey scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You'll understand if I don't take your word for it, I'm sure."

"Matt," Sylvie says softly as her hands find his shoulders and she turns him to completely focus on her. (It works. He starts to forget Voight and Upton are even in the room to begin with.) "There are two women missing. The clock is ticking and I'm being asked to help. I won't say no to that. This is what we do. We help people. You'd do the same if you were me and you know it."

A muttered curse escapes him as her gaze turns earnest. She's right. He hates that she's right. He would do this. Hell, he _has_ done this. With Sylvie's heart for people, he doesn't stand a chance of talking her out of it. He sighs in resignation and pulls his eyes from Brett to Boden. Silently asking what he Chief thinks. Boden doesn't have to say it outloud but Casey can see he'll go along if it's really what Brett wants.

Which means, this is a battle Casey won't win. He knows when he's beat. He's not going to be a sore loser. Not when Sylvie's well being is on the line. He won't be the person making this more stressful by arguing with her. But he _will_ make damn sure she actually wants to do this.

"If you're sure," Casey says with a questioning stare.

She nods, looking apprehensive but sincere. "I'm sure."

"Alright," Boden says, concern evident in that one singular word. "Let's get Hailey suited up. If she's riding in my Ambo then she's looking the part. I'm also not having Foster stay behind so she'll ride in the back, Brett will drive, and Upton will ride shotgun. You stay on your radios and report anything out of the ordinary. Copy?"

"Copy, Chief," Sylvie replies dutifully.

"Okay, then you're all dismissed. Voight, I'd like a word."

Casey and Severide share a knowing look. That is not a pleased tone in Boden's voice. The conversation they're ducking out on will not be pretty. Speaking of conversations that aren't pretty…

"Brett," Casey calls they're leaving the bull pen.

She gives him an expectant look and he nods toward the bunkroom. She follows him into the bunkroom and then his quarters. He closes the door behind her and then the blinds. His brow crinkles with concern the next time he speaks.

"What happened last night? What was in that security footage that PD found?" He tries to keep his voice soft but a little bite might have slipped in despite his best efforts.

"Nothing too serious, Matt, I promise," she says with an urgent pleading look in her eyes. She wants him to drop it. Fat chance of that.

"Serious feels like a pretty subjective term," he says with a beseeching glance. "Please, tell me. What happened?"

She sits on the end of his cot, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He got through. If she's sitting then she intends to talk. She folds her arms across herself, just as she did earlier, and meets his eyes. She looks more angry and embarrassed than scared and hurt. But there's some element of all of those things in her stare. He feels all of it on her behalf. It pisses him off. His fists clench at his sides as she starts to explain.

"I was leaving and I walked by an alley - not through it, I know better - and this guy just... _appeared_ out of nowhere. He grabbed my arms and then my wrists, tried to pull me along behind him. But I kicked him, pepper sprayed him, stabbed him with my keys — anything I could to make a scene. Safe to say...he let go. I ran back to the front of the club and stayed with the bouncer until my ride pulled up. That's it. That's all that happened. I'm _fine_."

He forces himself to lean against his desk to keep from pacing in the tiny space. There's not much room for it and he doesn't think Brett would like it. But he's going a little berzerk under the surface. The image of Brett being attacked makes him want to throw something or punch someone. Neither is currently an option.

"He grabbed you?" He asks.

His eyes drift to her long sleeves while he remembers the way she's held her arms close to herself nearly all morning. She doesn't answer because she knows she doesn't need to. He sees through her. She tugs the sleeves down over her hands and, finally, nods.

"Did he leave marks?" Matt asks through gritted teeth.

The anger in his tone is too obvious to hide. She hears it and immediately tries to soothe him. "Really, Matt, it wasn't that big of a dea-"

"Sylvie," he rasps as he tries to rein himself in. The last thing he wants is for her to think his anger is directed at her. "That's bullshit and you know it. Just...be straight with me. Please."

She bites her bottom lip and pushes up her sleeves - revealing ugly bruising. The bruises on each wrist are about the size of a closed hand. He shuts his eyes against the images but it doesn't stop him from visualizing it. He hasn't seen the security footage but he doesn't need to. Sylvie fighting off this bastard already exists in his horrible imagination.

"There's some bruising on my upper arms too," she admits in a small soft voice. "And I need a new pepper spray for my keys. But truly, Matt, apart from all of that I'm _fine_. Like I said in Boden's office, I took care of it."

"So, I heard," Matt grumbles before shifting into a gentler expression and pulling his chair closer to the cot. He sits and works hard at softening his tone. He's pissed, but he's not pissed at her. He is curious about one thing, though. One thing she could have done but didn't. "What I don't understand is why you didn't tell anyone - or go to the cops. You could have called Upton or Halstead and reported it as soon as it happened but you didn't. Hell, you could have called _me_ , but you didn't. _Why?_ "

She stares at him for a long moment to carefully consider her words. Her breath quivers as she exhales and he can see tears gathering in her lashes. She rubs an idle hand over the one of the angry marks covering her wrists and speaks up in a voice that's thick with emotion.

"I just wanted it to be over," she confesses. "Telling someone meant dragging it out. It also meant hearing the scoffing remarks from the jackass patrol cop they'd send to take my statement. What were you doing walking around by yourself at night? You could have crossed the street instead of walking by the alley, any reason you didn't?" She stops, scowls, and rolls her eyes. "It was humiliating, Matt. I didn't want to deal with people treating me like I was going to break or thinking I'd been naive-I handled it and got away from him. That was all that mattered."

This isn't about him so he's trying not to be offended by her assumptions and generalizations, but surely she wouldn't think that _he_ would be guilty of any of that? His chest aches and he feels the need to rub his hand across the sudden soreness. He avoids it by placing his arms on his thighs and leaning toward her.

"Sylvie, you know you can call me for anything, right? I would never-"

"No!" She says with a startled gasp. "Oh, no! Matt, none of that had to do with you."

"So then why didn't you…"

She gives him a weak smile and shrugs. "You would have talked me into calling the cops. I didn't want to be reasoned with just then."

Still not great but better than her not trusting him.

He nods and returns her wan smile. "Ah, okay." His brow furrows as he thinks over her confession. It doesn't really fit with what she's just agreed to do. "So, you went from just wanting it to be over to...volunteering to be bait?"

"I thought he was a one off drunk asshole, Casey," she tells him. "Now that I know that he's-god, I can't imagine being one of those women. Who knows what he's done to them? Or where he's taken them...I can't just sit around and do nothing in the face of all that." Her eyes meet his pointedly but softly. "And neither could you."

The truth of her statement makes him huff out of frustration and anxiety. She has him pegged and she knows it. "You'll be careful? No...reckless heroics?"

"You mean the kind a certain Captain Matthew Casey might pull at least once a shift? That kind of reckless heroics?"

She's smirking at him now with a face so smug that it somehow makes him want to kiss her. He won't. He's not there yet with his feelings. Or at least he doesn't think he is.

"Yeah," he replies letting his eyes fall to her lips and then forcing them away. This might be the worst possible moment to think about that. "Those kind of heroics."

She places her hands on his arms as they rest on his thighs and subconsciously traces lines over his skin with her thumbs. Her touch sizzles and soothes all at once which seems impossible, but here they are.

"You don't have to worry, Matt. Hailey will be right there with us the whole time, and you know Jay won't let her go anywhere without back up so...he'll be hanging around somewhere too. I'll have plenty of back up," she assures him. "No one wants anything to happen. Intelligence just wants to snatch the guy up. It should be easy."

He scoffs. "It's the should be that worries me."

The bells go off, startling them both. Matt prays to hear something besides Ambo which, of course, backfires. Ambo is the only one called.

"That's me," she tells him unnecessarily. "I should go."

She starts to take her hands from his arms but he grasps her fingers before she can remove them completely. "Can you...check in with me when you get back?"

Her expressions warms considerably with fondness and affection. She squeezes his hands and then releases them. "Of course. I'll be back in no time. You'll see."

He waits five minutes after she leaves and then makes a break for the radio. He pulls up a chair and ignores the knowing stares of everyone in the common room.

It doesn't take long for word to get to Boden.

The Chief's voice rumbles from over his shoulder. "Casey, do you really think this is the best course of action, right now?"

"The only other thing to do is sit in my quarters and go a little crazy, Chief, so yeah I do," he admits honestly.

Boden sighs, nods, and walks away. Casey thinks that's the end of it, but the next thing he hears is the sliding of a chair against the floor as Boden parks himself next to him. Severide pulls a chair over after that and for the next few minutes it's quiet as they all sit and listen to the chatter. Half an hour later, Sylvie's voice comes over the radio and informs Control that they've wrapped up their call and they have one incoming to Med. Casey breathes a sigh of relief. It won't take them long to get back to 51 now. The tightness in his chest loosens very slightly. They're almost home free.

"They're good, Casey," Severide says encouragingly. "All that's left is to drop off and come back, and Upton and Halstead are with them. They'll be back in no time."

Fifteen minutes later, Casey is almost ready to head back to his quarters. He slides the chair back and moves to stand. But then it happens.

Emily's frantic voice pierces the air. The pain in Casey's chest intensifies. The codes and the jargon don't tell the whole story, but what they do say has him grabbing a radio and running for the Truck.

Ambo 61 was stolen with Upton and Brett still inside.

"Holy shit," Severide curses as he runs after Casey.

He hears Boden rallying the troops. His "let's go, let's go, let's go" echoes through the halls with intense urgency. They all load up and head to Med. The radio is full of nonstop updates. Each one is more worrisome than the last. By the time they arrive, Halstead and Foster have followed the ambulance a couple of blocks where it's been crashed into a dumpster in a nearby alley.

Casey hops out of the truck and toward 61, only to be stopped by Jay.

"They're not there, man," Jay says, holding Casey back from stepping further onto the scene.

"So, where the hell are they?" Matt snaps as he manages to step out Jay's space.

"They couldn't have gotten far," Foster pipes up confidently. She looks pissed and has a fair amount of road rash on her face. "Asshole threw me out of the back of the ambo," she explains at their concerned expressions. "You know, since I'm not his _type_."

"Ruzek, Atwater, and Burgess are searching the buildings on either side of us. They have to be here," Jay tells him, appearing certain. But Matt sees a familiar worry in his eyes.

"So, why aren't you searching?" Severide asks suspiciously.

Jay's jaw ticks with irritation but he doesn't answer.

Foster answers, instead. "Voight told him to stay with me and 61."

Matt thinks he can use that worry to his advantage. He shouldn't be contemplating charging into either building but if Brett's in one of them he's sure as hell gonna do something. He steps up to Jay and speaks under his breath, so Boden and Severide won't hear.

"Let's go then," Matt says as he nods toward one of the buildings. "You want to go and I want to go. So…"

Jay meets his eyes and very discreetly nods. They get set to make a break for it before either of their bosses can stop them, but the radio crackles before they can. It's Atwater. GSW to the chest. Multiple victims down, including one officer and the assailant. They barely wait for the location before they all run toward it. Foster calls Kidd and Gallo back to help her with a backboard and the jump bag, but Casey doesn't bother stopping.

They're led to a back office in the building on the left. Casey's immediately worried when he discovers Burgess applying pressure to a wound on Hailey's thigh instead of Brett. Ruzek is attending to the assailant and his gushing chest wound. He's desperately trying to keep him alive to preserve whatever information this man has that they still need. But, still, Casey sees no Brett. There is no way she wouldn't be in the middle of the fray instructing everyone on how best to pack these wounds if she was able. So...why isn't she here?

Terrible thoughts and images intrude on his already fragile headspace. There's only one reason Brett wouldn't be helping and it sets a chill through his veins. Multiple victims down, Atwater said. He sees two. There has to be at least one more. Panic and fear cause his hands to fist. He glances around, feeling petrified at the possibilities that keep narrowing as the seconds tick on.

Flashes of the world Brett run through his mind like a nightmarish slideshow. The firehouse without her, Molly's without her, _his life_ without her. The feelings he told himself he wasn't sure of roar to the surface and nearly drown him in regret. What the hell was he thinking, keeping all of that to himself? What good is it to feel _anything_ for someone else if you never tell them?

Atwater stands by an open door, leading to another room, and the minute he sees Foster enter the room he yells over his shoulder.

"Brett! Supplies!"

"Thank God! Foster! I have two civilians back here! Gunshot wounds, severe bleeding!"

The sound of her voice pulls all the air out of his lungs. He marches through the open doorway, turns one corner, and nearly doubles over in relief. Jesus Christ, he'd never been that convinced he'd lost someone in his life. He wants to grab her and wrap her up in his arms but, like Brett on any other day, she's working. She's saving lives. So he settles for getting a good long look at her while offering her an assist.

"Oh, God, Casey, am I ever glad to see you," Brett exclaims, nearly in tears, as she points him toward a civilian bleeding from a severe wound to his abdomen. "Someone needs to put pressure on that and I just don't have enough hands!"

He does as he's told. He stays put and applies pressure while Foster, along with Kidd and Gallo, help Brett attend to the victims. His eyes follow every movement Brett makes. He can't help it. Hell, he's lucky he can focus at all. Eventually, all the wounded are patched up, on gurneys, and in ambulances on their way to Med.

Intelligence, of course, follows after Hailey and their perp. The scene calms down considerably once they leave and finally allows time for Brett to get checked out. Foster is waving a penlight in front of her face to test for a concussion while Matt hovers off to the side. Sylvie doesn't look physically hurt. No more than she did earlier at least. He thinks he can make out a new bruise across her cheek judging by the faint red tint to the skin under her eye. She'd been hit. Now he knows why Foster is checking her for a concussion.

She spots him over Foster's shoulder. Her eyes bore into his, red and raw and sorrowful. Foster finishes up and steps away and then before Matt register's Sylvie's movements his arms are full of her. She must have jumped, that's the only way she could have gotten to him so fast, but he's not complaining.

"You alright?" He asks as his arms band around her.

She nods against his neck and then nestles herself deeper into his hold. "I'm okay." she sucks in a deep breath and then starts rambling, her warm breath fanning over his neck while she does. "He just jumped in the ambo. It happened so fast. He had the wheel and there was no way in hell was I going anywhere he wanted me to go. So I-I fought him for the wheel and crashed the rig." The fear in her voice is palpable. His protective instincts kick in and his arms hold her closer like he's trying to protect her from her own emotions - even if he knows that's not possible.

"He ran into this building and Hailey and I chased him. God, these people, Matt-they were just here working, you know? Like regular people do in the middle of a weekday and now they're-and the creep responsible for all this is touch and go. What if they don't find out what he did to those other girls?" Breathing becomes more difficult for her and he can hear the tears clogging her voice. "What if we did all of this and no one wins?"

He arches back from their embrace to look at her tearstained face and meet her gaze. He's not sure there's a way to comfort her right now. He has no good answers for her concerns. He tries to go for the positive instead. "The important thing is that everyone is safe and Intelligence got their guy. Just focus on that for right now, Sylvie, okay? Come on," He says, keeping one arm around her. "Let's get you back to 51."

Her eyes are glazed over and dazed, but she nods and lets him lead her away. Boden takes Ambo 61 out of service while headquarters finds them a temporary rig. Brett and Foster will have until the next shift to rest and recover or more if that's what they need.

Once they reach the Firehouse, their paramedics seem calmer and more present as if coming back to their home away from home restored their sense of safety. They retreat to the locker room and emerge a half hour later, showered and changed. Foster's scrapes and cuts have been bandaged up and Sylvie's holding an ice pack to her cheek.

He can see the bruise now as he peeks out of his quarters into the bunkroom, along with a bump swelling along her cheekbone. His anger simmers just under his skin. First, her bruises from last night and now _this_?

Foster heads home, stating she needs to decompress, but Sylvie doesn't. Matt's been hovering in his quarters since they returned from the scene. Out of sight but close by if Sylvie needs anything. He doesn't normally like to eavesdrop but in this case he tells himself he's being attentive to Brett when she might be hurting.

Once Foster is out the door, Sylvie turns and meanders toward him. She leans against his open doorway and pulls the icepack away from her cheek.

"I know what you're doing," she tells him with a thin warm smile.

"I'm just...sitting here, doing my paperwork," he lies with an awkward clearing of his throat.

She chuckles and rolls her eyes at him affectionately. "The _paperwork_ sitting out on your desk is upside down, Matt."

He glances down and, sure enough, she's right. His already weak cover story is definitely blown now. "You caught me," he admits. "I've been waiting to see if you need anything."

"You could just ask me," she advises with a tilt of her head.

"You know, I wasn't sure...I don't know I thought you might want space or something," he tells her with a self conscious grin.

"Don't give me space," she requests. Her throat bobs with a thick swallow and her teary eyes meet his. He sees need in them that looks extremely familiar. He's felt that same need today actually, a couple of times at least. Like when she walked away from him for that call and after he found her at the scene that followed. He felt the need to hold her then and _that_ 's what he sees in her eyes now. "That's the last thing I want with you."

"Okay," He says with a nod as he stands and joins her in the doorway. "Do you need anything?"

A wry grin overtakes her face as she sniffles. Her teary eyes contradict the good humor in her voice. "A glass of wine or a few tequila shots might be good."

He chuckles and leans back, across from her. The toes of his boots nearly touch the toes of her sneakers in the small space. "I'm afraid we're all out of that around here. Bet I could dig around and find some cough syrup, though."

She laughs and then winces when it pulls at the goose egg on her cheek. "I'm not sure a decongestant is gonna have the effect I really want right now."

"Probably not," he agrees with a smirk. "Guess we'll have to wait till after shift to fill that particular need. So, let me try this question again, you need anything we have on hand?"

She presses the icepack to her cheek again like she's trying to hide the way her expression sobers. "Yeah, I can think of one thing."

"What's that?" He asks, curiously.

A half smile curves over her lips and she tips her face down, bashfully. Her voice is quiet, forcing him to lean closer. Just before she speaks, the intimacy of the moment strikes him. It warms the cold fear that's still sitting on his chest.

If just the simplicity of the moment warmed the coldness, her next statement melts it completely.

"You."

One word breaks the dam of emotions he's been withholding for months now. The call earlier put a huge crack down the middle of it, but her earnest confession is the final blow he needed.

For lack of the right words - he's never been good at those - all he can manage is hoarse rasp of her name.

"Sylvie, I-" He stops and gulps down as much air as he can. "I thought you were dead."

He rubs a hand over his face and pauses over his closed eyes to try and rub the impending tears away. Shit. Why is he doing this now? She's alive. She's right there in front of him. But the overwhelming emotions from the call flood him like they're still fresh. The dark and dreary Sylvie Brett-less world he imagined still haunts him, and probably will for a while.

He hears shuffling across from him and then feels two gentle hands on his shoulders. Those hands slide over his shoulders and then up his neck to run through his hair and over his scalp. His body reacts naturally and sags into her. It's been so long since he's had anyone offer this sort of comfort and it's almost mortifying how eager he is to accept it. His forehead finds her shoulder as her hands continue to card through his hair. His arms encircle her waist, his hands spread across her back, and then they just...stand there with his door still wide open. They're in plain view of anyone who may venture into the bunkroom but he really can't say he gives a damn. Not right now.

He breathes slowly and deliberately, blinking back the water in his eyes and inhaling the lingering scent of Sylvie's shampoo. That fragrance and the feeling of her arms around him keep him grounded in the present moment and very aware of how alive and well she actually is.

"For a second," she says with an emotional gulp. "I thought I was dead too."

He lifts his head up from her shoulder to meet her eyes. Fuck it. He almost lost her today and if he had lost her before he had a chance to _have her_ he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. The feelings would always be there whispering 'what if' in his ear. He can't risk that again. He grabs her hands once they come to rest on his shoulders and pulls them down between them.

"We should talk," he declares.

She nods and bites her bottom lip anxiously. "We should," she confirms.

He pulls her across the threshold and closes the door behind them. He holds up one finger to gesture for her to give him another minute and then closes the blinds. This isn't something he really cares to have the whole firehouse witness. Whatever happens now is between the two of them and the two of them alone.

When he turns around she's seated on the bed, with one leg underneath her, and the icepack sitting next to her.

He raises a critical brow at her. "Are you gonna hold that on your eye or…"

Her stare is dry but there's an amused smile on her face. She rolls her eyes and then lifts the pack back into place. "Happy?"

"Yes," he replies. Nerves creep up as she stares at him expectantly. Finally, he takes a deep breath and speaks. "I'm just-I'm just gonna say it, okay? I'm not the best with words as it is so I think it's best to not beat around the bush."

She nods. "Clear and concise is good."

One hand runs through his hair and over his face again before he manages to swallow back anxiety. Just spit it out, asshole, he chides himself. Spit. It. Out.

"I'm falling in love with you, Sylvie, and I don't want to waste anymore time pretending I'm not."

Her face brightens with pleasant surprise as the icepack falls from her hand. She struggles to catch it before it hits the ground. Once she has it in her grasp again she sets it on his desk and leaves it there. "You're-you're what?"

"I'm falling in love with you," he repeats. He's almost certain her response is a good sign but there are so many ways he could be misinterpreting this whole scenario.

For the second time that day she launches herself into his arms, this time for much happier reasons. Her mouth captures his and, to his disappointment, it takes his brain a handful of seconds to catch up. The moment he does, every nerve ending in his body lights up. His arms tight around her and barely lift her feet off the ground. Just enough for him to easily walk them backwards toward his cot. The kisses deepen as they go and every bit of that pent up need he's been feeling today is poured into them. They're urgent and desperate just as his determination to get to her was earlier that day.

He's pushing her back onto the mattress, with his hand sneaking under the back of her shirt, when Sylvie releases a startled squeak into his mouth and lightly pushes against his chest. He jerks back out of concern, thinking he's put too much pressure on a bruise or aggravated some sort of injury, but when he searches her face he only sees joy and contentment.

Her face is flushed and her eyes are alight with excitement when she speaks. "I forgot to say it back!"

"What?" He asks with a furrowed brow. His brain is little fogged up with the textures and tastes of Sylvie Brett. No one can blame him for being confused.

"I forgot to say that I'm falling in love with you too, Matt! Because I am and have been for a while now. I-I just didn't think that you...I don't know I thought most of it was in my head," she confesses while she brings her hands to frame his face. "I'm relieved it wasn't."

"Definitely not in your head," he assures her. "I was right there in the middle of all the confusion with you."

"Oh good," she replies with a short tinkling laugh. It's healing to hear after the ordeal they faced today. "Now we can be openly confused together."

He laughs too and nods his agreement. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Alright, sorry to interrupt," she apologizes with a sultry grin. "As you were."

He chuckles against her lips and they pick up where they left off, pausing to smile against each other's mouths every so often. God, she's good at this and so far perfectly molded to him. Kissing her is exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He falls harder and faster with every kiss. Deciding not to pretend with her anymore is the best decision he's made in a long time. Possibly ever.

He can't wait to find out where it leads.


End file.
